


One Too Many

by Nekoluver



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mark of Cain, Unhappy Ending, season 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 02:18:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3960667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekoluver/pseuds/Nekoluver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The hunter pulled back to place a kiss against the angel’s lips and Castiel wanted nothing more than to lose himself in it, wanted to pretend he’d misheard and that everything would soon fall into place. To pretend that there was nothing wrong, and for once the world wasn’t screwing him out of everything he’d ever wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Too Many

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to "One Too Many" by Three Days Grace and this just sort've... Happened. I'm so sorry, I don't know why I keep doing this.

The air was forced from Castiel’s lungs as his back slammed into the rough bunker wall. His hands rose defensively to push back against Dean’s shoulders. He knew the hunter was getting worse, that the Mark was affecting him more, but he hadn’t expected an attack so soon. He searched his friend’s eyes frantically, trying in vain to prepare himself for the blacked out sclera, but all he found was green. That beautiful, earthy green that had come to represent a piece of Dean’s humanity, and it was sparkling in challenge. Castiel tilted his head in confusion, but refused to let his guard down, still expecting a fight.

When Dean moved suddenly Cas tensed, preparing his body to absorb the blow. No hit landed, however and- _Oh_. Oh, that was unexpected. Well, he’d hoped, but he’d never dared to actually- _Well_. Well, Dean was… Wow.

It didn’t take much to turn Cas into a writhing, helpless mess of sensation. His fingers tightened into the fabric of the hunter’s flannel and any words he would’ve summoned were long lost to breathy moans. This was nothing he’d expected and everything he’d hoped for. The hunter’s hands were rough on his clothing but agonizingly gentle as they ran over the flesh they exposed. It was blissful and human, and the actions seemed so utterly _Dean_ that the angel finally dropped his guard.

The hand tightening around his throat was so unanticipated that his brain seemed to forget that his grace made human breathing obsolete. He’d been so close to being human for so long… And then maybe for a moment denial took hold. Surely Dean just wanted to try something… How would the human’s describe it? Adventurous? But there should have been conversations beforehand surely, and safety measures in place and…

Castiel’s blood went cold when he felt Dean’s lips twist into a smirk against his neck. The angel was only acutely aware of his body being adjusted, pinned more effectively against the wall. Dean’s tongue was running up his neck and he felt himself tremble. It should’ve felt pleasurable, but it didn’t. The hunter’s breath against his ear was uncomfortably warm and he had to fight the urge to jerk his head away.

“Where’s the Blade, angel?” Dean moaned against his ear. The hunter pulled back to place a kiss against the angel’s lips and Castiel wanted nothing more than to lose himself in it, wanted to pretend he’d misheard and that everything would soon fall into place. To pretend that there was nothing wrong, and for once the world wasn’t screwing him out of everything he’d ever wanted. When Dean pulled away, licking the angel’s taste from his lips, his eyes were pitch black.

“ _Dean_.” It was a plea for the humanity Castiel forced himself to believe was lost somewhere inside that consciousness.

Callused fingertips smoothed against the sensitive flesh of his stomach, dancing along the edge of his pants, teasing and tormenting in all the way he would’ve relished if this had still been his friend’s mind attached to those movements. “ _Cas_ ,” the demon breathed, and it sounded sinful in the way only Dean could make that nickname sound, but it was tainted. “Cas, baby, tell me where it is.”

The angel who had once wielding the power of Purgatory shied away from the gaze of this single human-turned-demon. He tried to ignore the telling swell in the front of his trousers, the pounding of his heart, the way his entire body pleaded with him to let this happen because it didn’t realize yet that this wasn’t _his_ Dean. That the one he’d yearned for for so long was drifting away more and more with each second that passed.

Dean was an expert at pickpocketing. His thieving skills had been born out of desperation and necessity in the time when he was too young to hustle pool and John Winchester had failed to adequately provide for the needs of his children. Since that time they had flourished and an adult Dean Winchester made thievery look effortless. Castiel should have noticed the demon slip the angel blade out of his trench coat, but had allowed himself to become preoccupied like a novice to the field. He should’ve known better. As the former general of Heaven’s armies he should have anticipated this tactic, but this one particular soul had always been his undoing. The blade sliced deep into his gut, and the demon’s head tilted with another smirk.

“Oops, guess I found yours.” Dean shrugged nonchalantly before his grin melted into something more sinister. “Where’s the First Blade, _Castiel_?”

The angel finally met his eyes, determined to be defiant to his last breath. Since discovering free will it had become second nature, even if it wasn’t always in his best interest. “I promised I would stop you, Dean.”

The hunter outright laughed at the statement. “You think I don’t know you were lying outta your ass? You can’t take me down.” Suddenly he was too close and it was unbearable. His kisses felt like poison and it took everything in the angel not to react. “You think I don’t know you’re in love with me? You think I don’t know how it makes you _weak_?” the demon spat.

Castiel took his chance to try and push against the hunter, hoping the demon would be distracted enough that he would have the leverage to get away. He’d underestimated him, though. It was a stupid mistake, or maybe he’d simply hoped Dean would wake up. That if he allowed himself to be vulnerable enough against all odds Dean’s humanity would pull through as Sam’s had when his body was inhabited by Lucifer. It was a foolhardy mistake. He knew better, but this was _Dean_. He was worth every risk.

The demon had pinned him face-first now, laughing again. It was a sick game to him, but Castiel couldn’t let him win. He wouldn’t be responsible for the hunter’s descent back into hell. Dean seemed to read the angel’s thoughts, and finally realize he’d get nowhere with the angel. More likely, he’d known all along and had just taken this chance to have some “fun”. Castiel could feel his grace seeping from the wound in his stomach, and he knew his life wouldn’t last much longer. He felt a strong urge to pass out when Dean slapped a hand against the wound, staving off the blood flow.

“Last chance, baby,” Dean nuzzled against the back of Castiel’s neck, mockingly affectionate. He placed gentle kisses there and to each of Castiel’s cheeks. “Come on now, it won’t be so bad.”

“N-never,” Castiel nearly choked on the word, blood already bubbling up in his throat. He knew it was pointless, this defiance. It was highly likely that Dean would be able to retrieve the Blade himself once Castiel was gone, but the angel refused to actively take part in it. Maybe it was better this way. Dean may destroy the world he’d always fought so hard to protect, but at least the angel wouldn’t be forced to witness the destruction.

Dean sighed in resignation, going back to planting gentle nibbles and kisses on the angel’s neck. “You can never do things the easy way, can you?” He sounded mournful, but his voice seeped lies. His fingers brushes gently against the angel’s shoulder blades, earning him an involuntary shiver. “Let’s see those gorgeous wings.”

Grace seeped out of Castiel’s eyes like tears as the blade pierced his heart. His wings burst from his back and evaporated into so many charred feathers. He had rebelled for and been betrayed by this man so many times, and yet in his final moments he mourned the loss of a soul that had shone brighter than any of his Father’s creations to come before it. As the angel died he couldn’t help but weep for the loss of the Righteous Man, and the soul that would become warped and tainted as his final moments came to a close. When Castiel’s grace finally faded from existence he thought not of the unfairness of his own end, but of the tragedy that was the loss of the soul he’d pulled from hell so many years ago. A soul that had somehow been drawn back into the pit and now, tainted as it was, finally belonged there.


End file.
